Unconventional Therapy
by Kaycen
Summary: Will is in Hannibal's office, very tense They're having one of their conversations, then Hannibal suggests something something unconventional to deal with his clenched fist and gritted teeth. Hannibal/Will. This is a paring between Dr. Lecter and will, and there is some (consensual) violence.


Will was in Dr. Lecter's office, in the middle of one of their 'conversations'. They were both standing, with a few feet between them. Will was tense, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Relax. Take deep breaths," Hannibal commanded.

He did as Hannibal said, breathed in an let his chest rise. He could smell the cleanness of the office, the old books on the high shelves behind him. "That's it, breathe," Hannibal said in that measured professional voice of his. When Will breathed out again in a huff of air, his fists were still balled up tight, the skin of his knuckles stretched and white.

"Why are you so tense today? Not that you're not always tense, but why today in particular?" Hannibal asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right.  
"I-I don't know," Will stammered, feeling how tight his jaw was, "Maybe it's the nightmares, or what causes them... I don't know," he repeated, "I just know I want to hit something, break something."  
"Okay, hit something," Hannibal said, so flippantly Will thought he'd misheard him.  
"Hit something?" Will questioned, his eyebrows shooting up to furrow lines into his forehead.

Hannibal lowered and raised his head, the slightest of nods.

"Yeah, alright," Will said, "I'll hit something." He turned to his right and punched a pillow on the black leather chaise. It fell to the floor with a soft thump.

When Will turned back to Hannibal, he saw that Hannibal was watching him with unreadable steady eyes. "Now how do you feel?"

"Silly," Will admitted, "That didn't help, it wasn't, wasn't..." his eyes fluttered to the ceiling, searching for the right word.  
"Alive?" Hannibal supplied.

Will's eyes shot to Hannibal's. He swore he saw Hannibal's lips twitch, as if the man were fighting a smile. He couldn't help but feel like the butt of some joke.

"The pillow wasn't alive," Hannibal continued, moving his lips no more than necessary, lest they betray his amusement, "It couldn't reel away or squint its eyes in anticipation of the blow. What you need, Will, isn't so much to hit something, but to see the reaction of hitting something... _alive_."  
"Well, Dr. Lecter, I don't see anything alive in this room," Will said, his voice growing gritty as it always did when he teetered at the edge of anger.  
"You wound me, Will," Hannibal said, "Are you insinuating that I'm not living?"  
"What?" Will said, not quite managing to close his mouth after saying it. Hannibal could see the bright pinkness where he'd been biting his lower lip. "You want me to hit you?" Will asked, his voice losing its edge as he became a bit slack-jawed.  
"If that is what you want, Will," Hannibal said, "But be warned, I never let anyone hit me without hitting them back... but then we'll be even."  
Will put a hand to his hair, as he had a habit of doing when uncertain. "I don't know, doctor, isn't that a bit unconventional?"  
"Tell me, Is there anything about your therapy or our friendship _conventional_?" Hannibal inquired. This time there was no hiding the sly smile, the slight crinkling to his eyes. Then the smile vanished and he was all business again. "Trust me, Will."

There was only a second's pause before Will thought _Aw, fuck it_. "Alright," he said, blundering toward Hannibal, "You asked for it."

Hannibal didn't flinch as Will's splayed-fingered hand sailed through the air toward his face. He kept his eyes to Will's until the very moment the very moment of impact; tense hand against the soft flesh of his cheek, snapping his neck to the right. Hannibal reeled, but didn't lose his footing, his own hand pressed to the red mark spreading across his cheek. When he looked back up, his left ear still ringing, he saw that Will had retreated a few steps, almost to his former position. The lightly bearded man's eyes were wide and fearful, looking to Hannibal as a lamb looks to the lion. His face must have betrayed him for a moment, because the startled look left Will's eyes and he squinted and said, almost unbelieving, "You _liked_ that." He sounded aghast.

Then Hannibal walked toward Will, with lighter and more graceful steps than the thinner man had bothered to use. He heard Will's breath grow ragged, but noted that his hands were not so tightly clenched as before. He stopped a foot from Will, and raised his hand. As soon as it began to drop, Will flinched and looked down. He expected to feel a sting that ebbed into a burning pain, but what he got was merely a pat on the cheek, almost gentle. His eyes fluttered open, blinking wildly, wondering why Hannibal's hand lingered on the stubble of his cheek. "And so what if I did?" Hannibal said, in response to the statement Will scarcely remembered uttering.  
Before Will could recover, lean away from Dr. Lecter's rough hand that rested so lightly on his skin, Hannibal leaned in ever so slightly to will. He sniffed the air, his eyelids drooping then opening fully again as he exhaled, his breath tickling Will's ear.

"You took my advice," he said, "You changed your aftershave."  
"Aren't you going to hit me?" Will asked suddenly, trying to infuse anger into his voice.  
"Perhaps," Hannibal said. Then, without warning, Hannibal's hand slid down Will's cheek to rest on his neck, applying just a bit of pressure, "And then again... maybe I'll choke you"  
"That wasn't part of the d-" Will started, but was cut off when Hannibal's thumb darted out to rest against Will's Adam's apple. He swallowed. He found himself tilting his head up, searching Hannibal's stony eyes. He tried to ignore the jolt he'd felt in the pit of his stomach. He forced shut his slightly parted lips and gritted his teeth against it.  
"You liked that," Hannibal said, spitting Will's own words back at him.  
"So what if I did?" Will said, the grittiness returning to his voice.  
"I could press harder if you'd like," Hannibal said, tightening his grip on Will's throat to demonstrate, not enough to choke him, not enough to disturb his breathing at all really. Nonetheless, when Will exhaled his breath hitched. Hannibal watched the blood rush to Will's face, as if he were embarrassed at his pleasure. Will raised his hand to Hannibal, to push him away, but found that it would not push, only clutch at Hannibal's shoulder. If anything, he was pulling Hannibal closer. Will took another deep breath. Below the smell of aftershave, Will could smell the salt of Hannibal's sweat.

Hannibal's hand released its grip on his neck, only to move down. His arm rested against Will's waist, hand pressing to the small of his back. This time the jolt to Will's stomach didn't go away but spread into a low, pleasant burn. Will could still feel the ghost of Hannibal's hand at his neck when the man's head went down to replace it.

Hannibal rested his head on Will's shoulder, his hair scratching Will through his shirt. Hannibal's lips pressed against his neck, not kissing it, just resting there. Under the soft press of Hannibal's hand, Will took the half step forward needed to bring the lower halves of their bodies together. _What the fuck am I doing?_ Will thought, but then he felt Hannibal's hard cock through the veil of both their pants and boxers. He felt Hannibal's lips part against his neck and take in a sharp breath. Then Hannibal began sucking softly at Will's neck. Will felt the wet press of a tongue against his skin. _He's tasting me. Fuck_, Will thought. He hadn't realized he'd whispered the last word aloud until he felt, in response, a rumble in Hannibal's chest as he hummed at his neck. His hand that wasn't clutching Hannibal's shoulder wrapped round the man's waist, lower than he'd aimed. His arm rested against the curve of Hannibal's ass. Hannibal's teeth grazed the smooth skin of Will's neck. Will's face flushed with a wave of heat, his cock twitched against the confines of his pants. Just at it began to harden against the other man's, Hannibal pulled away slightly. Will stared up, catching Hannibal's eyes, wondering if this could possibly be some trick, some test, but he found that, though Hannibal's eyes were usually sharp and clear, they were now clouded, their pupils dilated.

Hannibal put both hands on Will's chest and guided him to the chaise, not breaking eye-contact once, not even to blink. He all but pushed Will down onto its black leather. Will sat half lying, his legs half spread.

"Yes or no, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
"_Yesss_," Will hissed, barely believing he was saying it.

Then Hannibal stepped back, out of sight. Will heard a drawer open and shut. When Hannibal returned it was a little packet of lube.

"Now, why do you keep that there?" Will said, more than a little breathless, as Hannibal set it down on the ground beside Will and got to work unbuttoning Will's shirt.  
"For you, Will," Hannibal said plainly.

Will arched his back so that Hannibal could fully remove his shirt. Hannibal ran both his hands down Will's chest, across his abdomen, nails digging in, leaving a trail of red marks behind. Hannibal pressed himself between Will's legs, his hands resting just above Will's crotch, teasing. One hand went up to tangle in Will's curly hair, gently at first, then he began to tug. Will's shaky hands shot out to Hannibal's trousers, unbuttoning then unzipping. He pressed his hand against Hannibal's boxers, against his cock. He ran his thumb up its length, pressing his other hand to Hannibal's as it ran through his hair. To his surprise, Hannibal bent down and pressed a sloppy kiss on Will's mouth. Will hadn't taken him for the kissing type.

Hannibal moved the heel of his free hand to rub against Will's cock through his jeans. When Will gasped, Hannibal bit down on the man's lower lip. He yanked his hand out of Will's hair, out from beneath Will's own hand, and made quick work of his Will's belt. He held it aloft with one hand while the other unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. For a second Will thought he was going to whip him with it. With a jolt, Will realized the idea was not entirely unpleasant. Hannibal, however, dropped the belt to roughly yank off Will's trousers and boxers. Hannibal shrugged off his suit jacket and vest, but when Will's hand went to unbutton his shirt, Hannibal swatted it curtly away. Before Will could ask why, Hannibal was pressed fully against him. There was a crinkling sound and then Hannibal had both their cocks gripped in his slicked hand. As Hannibal began to stroke, Will reached down to grab Hannibal's ass.

"It's good to see your fists aren't clenched anymore," Hannibal said. Will wondered how he could keep his voice so steady.

He wished the silk of Hannibal's shirt wasn't between them, but every time he moved a hand to unbutton it, Hannibal pushed the hand away.

Will couldn't help but thrust into Hannibal's hand as his strokes grew faster, more insistent. When Will's eyes drifted shut, he pressed his hand against Hannibal's bruised cheek. Hannibal turned his head and sucked on Will's fingers, biting them. The hand that was not wrapped around their cocks went to Will's chest, raking scratches into it. He felt Will's breath grow ragged.  
"Mmm... Mmmmm... Hmm," he was now saying in time to Hannibal's hand.

In truth, Hannibal wasn't even moving his hand much anymore, but Will was thrusting erratically up into it. Hannibal swirled his thumb over the head of Will's cock, digging his nails into Will's shoulder now. He felt Will squirm beneath him, his back arch against his stomach, and then, with a grunt, felt Will's warm seed spurt between them, soiling his silk shirt. Hannibal didn't stop stroking during Will's aftershocks. if anything, he increased his pace, and thrust into his own fist, rubbing his cock against Will's. He raised his hand from Will's shoulder.

Will didn't see it coming, the slap that is. It wasn't as hard as he'd hit Hannibal, but it left a tingling sting behind. Just as Will shouted out in surprise, Hannibal bore down on Will's neck, sucking and biting, then he came, hot and sticky onto Will's chest. He got up almost immediately. His cock hung out of his open pants, his shirt was soiled and wet. He looked down at will with, for once, lazy eyes. He wiped his lubed hand clean on the side of his shirt, tossing down a green handkerchief to Will.

"I'm going to taste you next time," Hannibal said as he watched Will wipe his chest clean, heard his breathing settle back to normal, "and not just your neck."


End file.
